


Alec

by Twisted_Taffy



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec's not a happy person, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Taffy/pseuds/Twisted_Taffy
Summary: A spontaneous poem about the slightly broken and still wonderful DI Alec Hardy.





	Alec

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We don't own Broadchurch or any of these characters.

Hurts, don’t it.

To be wrong.

Cause mate,

you haven’t got a clue.

 

Being wrong never

leaves your memory-

sticks to you, clings to your trousers,

haunts you in the

wee moments before

sleep.

 

It never lets you escape;

follows you from place to place

too quickly to outrun.

So yeah,

being wrong hurts.

Kills you, almost literally.

 

But ya know what

Mate?

It’s far worse

to be right

and know that there’s no bloody thing

you can do about it.

 

Being useless

sticks to your bones,

weighs them down;

pulls at your heart

until it struggles

to stand,

‘till sometimes you wish you’d just fall over

but you can’t because someone is always

dragging you back up to do

their job.

 

I mean,

Come _on_ already!

 

And all the people who were wrong

still laugh because

even though they were wrong,

they _won_.

 

Wankers.

 

Being uselessly right

is worse than being wrong.

Being wrong means something,

at least you got out there

and _did_ something.

 

Being right, being useless?

It makes you hopeless.

And all it means

is everythin,

all you’ve flippin done so far

was just,

so,

bloody…

 

Pointless.


End file.
